


It's Okay to Dance Again

by Calacious



Series: Comfort in November and December 2020 [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Are Bad At Feelings, Comfortember 2020, First Date, Healing, Moving On, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: Ron is having a hard time moving on after Hermione's death. Harry, Ginny and Draco help.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Pre Ron/Draco, past Hermione/Ron
Series: Comfort in November and December 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996825
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	It's Okay to Dance Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the comfortember prompt: exhaustion
> 
> The death does not take place on screen. This is a fic about healing and moving on after the death of a loved one.

Raising two children on his own is exhausting much of the time, but it has its good moments. Not two AM feedings, or projectile vomiting all over the bed, or stuck in the bannister moments, but there are other happy, peaceful moments that come along every now and again that make it all worthwhile.

Still, when Harry and Ginny offer to take Hugo and Rose for the weekend to give Ron a break, he almost cries in relief. Hugo’s got a diaper rash, Rose is going through her terrible twos for the second year in a row, and Ron is ready to call it quits, because he really, really needs a break, and Hermione would be loads better at this than he is if she had been the one to live, and he’d been the one to die. 

“You two be good for your Aunty Ginny and Uncle Harry,” Ron says, giving Hugo a kiss on one of his chubby cheeks, and kissing the top of Rose’s head. 

He hesitates before heading to the Floo, steps faltering because he’s certain that he’s got to be missing something.  _ Had he remembered to grab Hugo’s favorite dragon plushie, and the blankie that Rose can’t sleep without? What about their favorite book, the one with the hippo in a tutu and ballet shoes? _

“Go,” Harry says, gently pushing him toward the fireplace. “We’ve got it. Get some rest, maybe go out on a date with that bloke you met at the park the other day, or go to a bar and hook up with someone. It’s been too long, mate, and you know that Hermione wanted you to move on from her.”

Ron’s got a whole mouthful of words he wants to say in response to his friend, but when he opens his mouth, none of them come out. Instead, he says, “Thank you. I’ll come ‘round Sunday evening.”

“Look, Ron,” Harry says. He runs a hand through his hair, and places a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just --”

“Boys are stupid, and incapable of properly addressing things like feelings,” Ginny breaks in. She’s got Hugo in one arm, and gives Ron a kiss on the cheek. 

“You take all the time you need before starting to date again,” Ginny says. “And don’t mind Harry, he received a Dreadful on his ability to handle situations with tact.”

Ron snorts, and shakes his head. Truth is, he’d probably be just as awful with Harry had their roles been reversed. “It’s okay,” he says. It’s not okay. Nothing’s been okay for the last long while. 

“Take care of yourself, we’ll see you Sunday,” Harry says, squeezing Ron’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your kids will be fine.”

“And if anything is missing, I'll send Harry over to your place to get it,” Ginny says. “They’ll fit right in with James.”

With that, Ron heads into the Floo and to a home that is eerily quiet. He stares around the apartment and starts haphazardly picking up toys, and clothes, and before he knows it, there’s not a speck of dust, or a toy out of place, and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open.

He falls asleep, fully clothed, on the couch when he stops to take a break, and doesn’t wake until morning, a dream of Hermione scolding him for not going out with a bartender who looked a lot like Draco Malfoy and who kept trying to get him to dance with a tutu-wearing hippo, lingering in his mind. He shakes off the bizarre dream, and laughs when he remembers that the hippo transformed itself into McGonagall before becoming a cat.

“Note to self,” he says, as he stands and stretches. His back pops, and he winces. “No more binge cleaning and falling asleep on the couch.”

Still, he feels rested, and after a quick shower and change of clothes, he feels almost like himself again. It’s strange, being alone. He can’t remember the last time he  _ was  _ alone. If he’d ever actually been alone in his life. 

Growing up in the Weasley household, he’d been surrounded by siblings, and their friends. At school, he’d been surrounded by classmates. And after Hogwarts, well, he’d been married and he and Hermione had kids, and then, well, then Hermione was gone, and Ron had the kids, and his parents helping him for awhile, just until he’d gotten over the worst of the grief. And Ron has never been on his own until now. 

It’s a strange feeling, being alone for the first time in his life, and he’s not sure what to do with it, so he grabs his coat and wand, and heads out of the apartment and into the city. He walks aimlessly through the streets, wanders in and out of shops, buys a handful of toys and books for the kids, and something for Harry and Ginny to thank them for giving him this weekend alone. The first one he’s ever had in his recollection. 

It’s nearing one in the afternoon when his feet remind him that he’s not used to walking along city streets for so long, and his stomach reminds him that he hadn’t eaten supper, or breakfast...that he can’t really remember the last time he actually ate something that wasn’t a spoonful of applesauce or baby food to encourage Hugo to eat. His stomach growls loudly, garnering the attention of a young man who would have collided with Ron (head bent over as he looked intently at something held in his hand) had Ron’s stomach not chosen that very moment to publicly embarrass him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the young man, a Muggle, says, and he steps around Ron, head once again bent as he looks down at the peculiar slim, oblong object in his hand. Ron files it away in his head to ask his dad about it later. 

“At least he said, sorry,” a familiar voice drawls, and Ron finds himself spinning around on the spot, hand already reaching for his wand before he reminds himself that he’s no longer in Hogwarts, and he is in fact walking around Muggle London, and Draco Malfoy is probably not going to hex him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Ron says. He can feel himself blushing as an image of the bartender he’d dreamt about last night flashes into his mind, and all he can think about is how the bartender (who bore a very striking resemblance to Draco) had leaned over and kissed him before asking Ron to dance with the hippo.

“I think they’re called sellyphones or something like that,” Draco says, and Ron gapes up at the other man, and fights the urge he has to pinch himself, because maybe he’s still fast asleep on the couch, and this is just an extension of the dream with the hippo, and bartender Draco.

“Have you had something to eat?” Draco asks. 

He’s giving Ron a pinched look, and Ron shakes his head. If it’s a dream, it’s probably best to go along with it. He flinches, though, when Draco grabs his elbow and starts to lead him along the busy sidewalk, and barely pays attention to the cadence of Draco’s voice as he talks about this and that. 

“You’ve gotten stick thin,” Draco’s words finally register when they stop in front of what looks like a fancy restaurant. Ron is ready to balk, and to take his elbow back from Draco, but when Draco leads him forward, he goes. 

“Tell me you’ve been eating,” Draco says. “That you’ve not got some kind of death wish now.”

“Uh,” Ron says, eloquently, and he shrugs. He hadn’t really thought about why it was that he couldn’t always remember to eat. “I eat.”

“Sure, you do,” Draco says, and he shakes his head as he gets them a table. 

He pulls the chair out for Ron and pushes it in for him as if they’ve done this millions of times before, and this is not the first time they’ve seen each other after the war. It’s all a little overwhelming. 

“Why are you doing this?” Ron blurts out once Draco has ordered for the both of them, and has started sipping from a glass of wine.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Draco says, pausing mid-sip to look at Ron over the top of his wine glass.

Ron feels himself blushing, and he shakes his head. 

Draco sighs. “You weren’t listening to a word I said on the way here, were you?”

Ron blinks, and shakes his head. He feels as if he’s been hit with a Confundus Charm, and it’s all very dizzying.

“I,” Draco starts, and then stops, and he places a hand on top of Ron’s and squeezes. “I just wanted to reach out to you and let you know that you’re not alone. And, well, I kind of had a crush on you when we were at Hogwarts.”

“What about Astoria?” Ron asks, flustered.

“We divorced,” Draco says. “Turns out she couldn’t put up with my alternative lifestyle any more than I could put up with her.”

“And, your son?” Ron asks. 

“He was another thing that she couldn’t put up with,” Draco says, voice a little strained. “My mum’s got him for the day.”

“Harry and Ginny’ve got mine for the weekend,” Ron says, and he blushes when Draco’s lips curl upward into a lascivious smile. 

“Well, then,” Draco says, leaning forward across the table. “How about if we take our meal to go, and I show you my new place?”

“Bu--”

“What’ve you got to lose, Weasley?” Draco says, eyes twinkling with a challenge. 

Ron resists the urge he has to say, everything, and takes a deep breath. He can almost hear dream Hermione’s voice in his ear, telling him to, _ ‘Take a chance’  _ and then scolding him for not dancing with the hippo. 

“Okay,” Ron says, and he takes the hand that Draco offers him, his mind flashing to the hippo in her pink tutu. 

Draco isn’t a tutu-wearing hippo, and this isn’t what anyone would call a conventional dance, but Ron’s tired of being exhausted, and tired of saying, no, to the hippos in his dream. As he lets Draco take the lead, he can hear an echo of Hermione’s laughter, and her voice saying,  _ “It’s okay to dance again.” _

  
  



End file.
